


Estranged Child

by RavenclaWriteRules (sapphirejubilee), sapphirejubilee



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Gotta Catch Em All!, Humor, Love Triangle, Newt is A Lovable Nerd, Reformed Delinquent Leta, Road Trip, Slow Burn, Theseus Should've Been A Slytherin, Zookeeper Buddies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26240230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirejubilee/pseuds/RavenclaWriteRules, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirejubilee/pseuds/sapphirejubilee
Summary: Years ago, the Lestrange's bastard girl defied the impossible and escaped Hogwarts, in the process breaking Newt Scamander's heart.  Since then, Leta has made multiple attempts to contact him...to no avail, most likely because he still hasn't forgiven her.Accepting this, she has reformed herself into a competent Auror and made an effort to put all her delinquent years behind her.  Now, she works for Supervisor Silverskin as part of the Department of Magic Law Enforcement (also known as "Department of Force"), taking on the graveyard shifts and putting up with coworkers who constantly question her ability, all while hiding her past from her superior, the impeccable Theseus Scamander (also known as Newt's older brother).All of these careful plans are thrown into disarray, however, when Newt Scamander returns with a job for her: accompany him on a mission to study every Beast known to wizardkind for the nerd book he is writing.ROAD TRIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Relationships: Leta Lestrange & Newt Scamander, Leta Lestrange & Theseus Scamander, Leta Lestrange/Newt Scamander, Leta Lestrange/Theseus Scamander
Comments: 13
Kudos: 15





	1. What the Raven Saw

Once upon a time, a girl disappeared in the middle of the night.

This would usually be a cause for concern, especially since the incident took place at no other than a school of magic. It is said that at this school of magic, the security spells are tighter than the eye of a needle. The gates are always closed, except to the few who are granted the privilege of entering and leaving, at limited occasions and with the Headmaster's permission. No wizard can step foot without the Headmaster's knowledge, and no soul can leave the castle without paying the ferryman. One cannot so much as spill ink on a library book without alerting the various angry creatures (and yes, the Hogwarts librarian) residing there.

Now there are some exceptions. Yulia Zimmerman once went missing during a Quidditch match on November 1, 1905 for exactly five hours, until a certain Professor Blumendahl had the presence of mind to check the bathrooms instead of the sky. Since then, there have been no such known incidents of missing children, magical or otherwise.

Knowing this, it is reasonable to expect that people would be quite alarmed. But you would be wrong to assume so.

The girl in question was neither particularly loved or approved of by the general populace.

The professors found her rather difficult and selfish, and terribly clever, a most obnoxious combination for a girl to exhibit. The students simply found her stuck-up and mean, and were glad to be rid of her presence.

"It's something about her kind," some would say.

"It wouldn't be so bad if she was just a blood traitor," her kin, a revered circle known as the Sacred Eight would interject. "But not even the Mudbloods like her. I suppose that leaves the owls and the house-elves, who are too stupid to do anything but carry orders and listen to anyone with food." Of their number, only Theseus Scamander had anything nice to say about her person, which was that she was a lot smarter than he ever could have imagined. Nobody else volunteered to comment on this statement.

When the girl in question disappeared, no one let out a cry. No one asked her to stay. She simply went without saying a word or letting anyone know, leaving nothing but a raven behind.


	2. Beggars, Choosers, Winners, Losers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life. No pain, no gain. No complaints, no restraints. Such is the life philosophy of this pureblooded witch of color.

Not many people of a _certain_ disposition, to put it delicately, ended up in positions of power. The Lestrange girl knew this quite well.

Many others felt the need to mention it to her, but she was well aware of it. After all, every other day, someone would mistake her for a lost Muggle and gently offer to show her the way out (or occasionally, call the Obliviator squad on her). Witnesses and suspects alike stopped mid-confession to gawk at her, or to jeer at her and ask for a proper Auror to handle their case. Coworkers watched her with suspicion and often asked to conduct investigations separately while on the field. "Suit yourself," she would respond. "Let's see who catches the perp first." Not to brag, but she usually won.

She knew she was different, and that she was alone. None of the other female Aurors looked like her, no matter how similar they insisted they looked after suntanning at Cote Azure. The difference between them and her did not lie in their complexions, but rather their work ethic; other Aurors might be outstanding, but Leta was impeccable. They were content to show up to work on time, Pepperup Potion in hand; Leta would be waiting for them, having already completed all her preliminary paperwork, and asking Silverskin about the day's mission. Ten steps ahead, at all times, always.

Of course, there were a few other success stories. The esteemed Minister Evermonde, for example, who many were proud to say they voted for and had shared drinks with. Some still asked Leta if she was related to him, or if he had helped her to attain her position, to which she would reply that she passed all her O.W.L.s and NE.W.T.s and Training just like them...and if the person sticking their nose up in her business happened to be from the Department of Magical Games and Sports, she would mention her stint as a Beater for the Holyhead Harpies. Undoubtedly, this factoid never failed to distract the nosy person in question, at least long enough for her to escape any further small talk.

She'd been told that there were others like her. Perhaps they were all milling about the French Ministry of Magic, which had been recently flooded with complaints about the excess influx of foreign wizards and lack of support for local French Wizards. Or perhaps in America, where there was a new, booming culture based around music that made some wizards cover their ears and some lift their robes so they could hop about like pairs of frogs. But there had to be others, somewhere. Other wizards and witches who rarely passed as such, and even among Muggles were considered to be lower-class citizens. Who hid their talents, not out of respect for the International Statute of Magical Secrecy, but because of a strange, dark fear harbored towards them by their Muggle neighbors, a fear that her fairer coworkers no longer believed in. There had to be others. Back in Senegal, or Guadalupe, perhaps.

"Although," one witch drawled, poking at a boil on her nose, "They're not as good as us, you know. All their schools are too poor to properly train them, so the Ministry lets practically anyone work for them." Two weeks later, she was fired from Regulation of Magical Creatures as someone had mysteriously discovered and sent Silverskin a memo mentioning that the secret Chizpurfle nest in her desk was a safety hazard.

At any rate, it was abundantly clear to Leta that her kind was not necessary, not desirable, and not required. She was the exception. And in order to keep her job, it was imperative that she remain exceptional.

Which meant no playing hooky, no unnecessary tea breaks, no superficial complaints, no unnecessary grievances, and absolute adherence to the schedule.

It had taken them a few years to realize, but it was starting to work. Some of her coworkers had begun to pick up on her careful planning and pointed it out, in front of Silverskin no less. Unfortunately, he rarely seemed to be paying attention when they did.

"Lestrange," Wormwood said casually, "It's your third day overtime, isn't it? Aren't you pushing it a bit?"

"Not at all," Leta replied. "I am happy to receive additional assignments. Long downtimes hasten the loss of faculties."

Silverskin simply grunted and looked away, as if his pile of citations had suddenly become significantly more interesting.

Another time, Alvaro showed a rare moment of astute clarity, and asked Leta if maybe she would like to switch shifts since she had more experience with healing spells.

"I'm grateful for your offer," Leta smiled politely, "But I would rather perceive it as an opportunity to overcome my own shortcomings. It would be beneficial to me to practice my healing skills."

Silverskin ignored this too. The only reaction it earned her was a laugh from Theseus, whose gaze Leta habitually avoided. To say that he knew too much would be an uncomfortable understatement. It was best to pay him no mind, even if his presence troubled her greatly.

Despite Silverskin's apparent indifference, Leta continued to put out good faith efforts and quality professionalism, everything she could think of that warranted promotion (and perhaps...the coveted position of Head Auror, which she knew she was too greedy for lusting after, but desperately wanted).

And it was working. It had to be. Sure, she was stuck in the same position for years, but so far, it had worked up until now...hadn't it?

She counted off her fingers the nights since she started working at the Auror Department. With pride, of course. Bitterness was the first step before job dissatisfaction, which leads to poor performance and unprofessionalism, which she was not about to indulge in. As she quietly rolled over in her small, rickety flat that was roughly the size and shape of a closet, she reminded herself that far cleverer and smarter women than her had ended up on the streets, and of how many young witches would kill for her position. Aurors, while extremely difficult to train properly, are nonetheless replaceable and constantly at threat of competition. There was no plateauing or retiring for her - she would simply work until she was fired or deemed unable to pass annual evals and lost her various licenses. Now was not the time to start doubting.

And yet, some nagging voice in the back of her head insisted that no matter how many years she put in between, how hard she worked or how far she ran, she was still in the same position as the bedraggled, rain-soaked girl who escaped Hogwarts.

 _I am not behind_ , Leta reminded herself firmly. _If anything, I am exactly where I should be_.


	3. Schoolgirl Crush

"Well! If it isn't my good friend, Leta," Theseus Scamander smirked as the golden doors of the Lift closed, effectively trapping her inside with him. "And how is your morning?"

It had been many years since Leta felt anything akin to a schoolgirl crush towards Theseus. Unlike some of his bosom buddies, he had aged quite well, all things considered; most male Aurors began to experience hair loss caused by stress within their first year of field work. Then again, if there was one thing that Theseus was always good at, it was managing things. People, timelines, appearances. It was one of the things that had both attracted and repulsed her about him.

"Good, thank you," Leta replied. Although Theseus was not as notorious of a gossip as Nott, it was still a good idea to remain reserved around him. Perhaps it was because of his connection to Newt, but something about the way he would fix his eyes on you as he talked deeply bothered her and felt as if he could see through her. "And how are you?" she ventured to ask, despite her usual abhorrence towards small talk.

"Why, it is going wonderfully well, especially now that the great Leta Lestrange has deemed me worthy enough to ask my wellbeing," Theseus replied, making her regret her boldness. If those words had come out of Nott or even Wormwood's mouth, she would immediately have slapped him, however from Theseus it felt more like a calculated move than empty flattery. "You know, I once heard that if a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff are made to stand in the same room together, the Hufflepuff stands no chance. Is that true?"

 _Is he mocking me?_ "Well, I'm not a Hufflepuff, so I'm afraid we won't be able to find out," Leta replied cautiously.

Theseus chuckled. "So I am aware."

Years ago, this encounter might have been a giddy, romantic opportunity.

If only she could return to such innocence...or the illusion thereof, at least.

Leta glanced at him again, trying to read his expression, but his face remained the same as always...vaguely polite, though not simple.

_He knows about Newt, doesn't he?_

Her left hand began to feel hot and sweaty. She loosened her grip on her wand and wiped it off discretely.

 _I'm sure he doesn't know about Newt_ , she thought to herself, trying to calm down. _Even so, he's not the snitch type. Wormwood, definitely. Theseus wouldn't try and smear your name though._

 _Would he, though?_ She thought to herself _. She'd never seen Theseus speaking badly of their other coworkers, but what if he was just gathering the dirt on her, getting ready to report to Silverskin? And Silverskin would listen, wouldn't he? After all, Theseus was the department favorite, and she was only an estranged bastard of the Lestrange family._

At the back of her mind, memories began to flow, trying to convince her paranoid mind otherwise. H _ogsmeade. Quidditch. Studying._ Theseus didn't hate her back then.

 _Ah, but all this was still before I left Newt, wasn't it?_ Leta thought to herself bitterly.

Something was burning her left hand. Leta yelped and shook it, forgetting that she had been holding her wand and sending it flying. It rolled onto the floor of the Lift, finally stopping once it hit the corner. She immediately bent down to retrieve it, feeling the heat spread to her face.

A hand that was much larger and firmer than hers got there before she did. "Allow me."

"Thank you," Leta said awkwardly, immediately withdrawing her hand. Theseus merely smiled and held out her wand. Trying not to betray any more nervousness, she restrained herself and made great effort to look unbothered by this exchange.

"My pleasure," Theseus replied, just as the Invisible Lift Operator announced that they were on Level 5. "Ah, that's my cue."

 _Level 5?_ Leta thought to herself. _He must be in for a long job today. Probably about to argue over some protocol...or, if the rumors are true, rendezvous with members of the French Ministry._

"Do me a favor, Leta. Have yourself a good day."

Leta looked down, trying not to meet his smile.

 _He might not know about Newt. But he knows something_.

 _They're brothers. Newt probably told him_.

Her unease remained with her, like a heavy set of chains that made it quite difficult to move past such thoughts. It was only until the Lift announced that she had arrived on Level 8 that she realized she had missed her floor, all the way back on Level 3.

_Oh, no._

For the first time in years, Leta Lestrange would be, in fact, late. By more than two minutes.


	4. So We Meet Again, My Old Heartache

"Do you think we've got all day to wait for you? Just because you work directly with the Aurors, you can show up whenever you like and make everyone else's will bend to you?" The witch whose nametag read CALPURNIA PENNYWHISTLE hissed, practically throwing the paperwork at her. Behind her, dozens of witches and wizards, some holding special containers and fireproof clothing, scurried about their daily duties.

"No, madam, I am so sorry," Leta began, immediately rolling out her apologetic speech. "After years of being seen as a charity hire, she was used to witches and wizards blowing up in her face and making rude assumptions about her competence. This time, however, Pennywhistle didn't seem to be interested in what she had to say.

"This job has been waiting all week," she hissed. "Your damned boss, has been putting it off for quite some time, and god knows why. Now where is Scamander? The older one, I mean! He should have been here weeks ago. Why didn't you bring him with you?"

Leta stared at her, confused. "Theseus?"

"Yes! Him! The brother," Calpurnia said impatiently. "We requested him specifically. Why hasn't he come yet?"

Leta felt heat rising at the back of her neck. "I believe there's been a misunderstanding," she cleared her throat. "Theseus is not available today."

Calpurnia wrinkled her nose. "Well, in that case, if Scamander isn't coming, I'll have no choice but to ask for an alternate. Tell your boss to bring someone else, and have them come with you this time."

Her left hand began to feel hot again. "I would, however-"

"You interns are so slow," Calpurnia mused, reaching for a pen and using it to stir her mug of Pepperup. "Are you sure you want to work for the Department of Magical Enforcement?"

Leta narrowed her eyes.

"Theseus is not coming," she replied, a touch of a sneer creeping into her tone. "Silverskin sent me to carry out whatever task you had in mind for him. Whether or not you believe I am competent enough to carry out the task, you have no choice but to hand it to me. Nobody, and I must stress this, nobody else will be coming to take it over. Us Aurors work a tight schedule and we are not exchangeable like the hippogriffs which you lot like to loan out for personal use. So either you give the task to me, or you can wait another two weeks until Silverskin reaches the bottom of his stack of jobs and decides to reassign it. Do you understand?"

"Alright, alright!" Calpurnia snapped, though Leta detected some signs of intimidation from the way she gripped her mug a bit tightly. "It's all yours. You can call in the mister when you're ready, he is currently milling about the Pest Division, looking at the Cornish pixie cages."

Leta smiled graciously. "Thank you, Madam Pennywhistle." With that, she turned around and walked off.

 _This should be fairly simple_ , she reminded herself. Most likely it's a joint job with the Office of Misinformation and the Obliviators, which would be a cakewalk. Jobs with the Office of Misinformation were usually simple, fast, and enjoyable. All it took was a quick scanning of the area, trained sedations on Muggles, after which it was a simple matter of handing them over to the Obliviator Squad and watching them work their magic. Sometimes, they took suggestions for false memories, which she enjoyed immensely. She always thought that if she were to leave Magical Force, it might be quite fun to work in Misinfo.

Most importantly, however, the best thing about working with Misinfo was that she rarely ever had to interact with the animals they subdued. Many people assumed that Aurors were used on the animals, but that was not true - most of the time, their gruntwork was spent wrangling Muggles, while the trained Beast Division handled the actual animals. Although she appreciated chimeras and found them to be quite beautiful creatures, she was extremely thankful that the last time she had been called in, she only had to subdue the panicking Greek tourists and afterward was allowed to watch the Beast Division work their magic from the sidelines. All in all, despite her lack of knowledge, she would consider it a job well done.

 _Doesn't it bother you, though?_ That nagging voice returned. _Theseus hasn't been working here all that longer yet he's already doing international affairs while you're still playing gopher for the Magical Creatures folk. Doesn't this mean you aren't actually his equal, or even worthy of the title of coworker?_

Leta took a deep breath and did her best to banish the thought from her mind.

_No more doubts. This is going to be a fun job, I can feel it in my bones._

Smiling as brightly as possible under the circumstances, Leta grinned and made her way towards the Cornish pixie cages. "Excuse me, sir!" She called out to the young man standing in front of them. "Are you the one who posted a job requesting an Auror?"

The young man turned around, and Leta stepped back immediately, almost dropping the paperwork Calpurnia gave her.

"I did, indeed! You must be the Auror I asked for," he smirked, grinning as if nothing had happened, nose still as freckled as the day they met and still vaguely reminiscent of a strawberry.

Leta stared at him, a million questions running through her mind, trying to make sense of what was in front of her.

"I'm Newt," he announced, holding out his left hand for her to shake. "How are you?"


	5. You Speak Welsh?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old memory of saving someone from being kidnapped by Cornish pixies at Hogwarts, or how Newt met Leta.

On Leta's third day at Hogwarts, the door to a second-year classroom burst open in the middle of the hallway she was walking through, and a crowd of eager blue Cornish pixies began to scan the area for potential victims to kidnap. Immediately, they zoned in on Eliza Howell's shiny necklaces and ostentatious pink hair and grabbed her by the ears. At first, her friends Margrethe and Lilly made attempts to yank her back down by her ankles, but gave up after the chattering pixies began to screech into their own ears. Both backed off and let go of Eliza's legs, and instead used their hands to swat away and cover their ears the sounds of the pixies. By the time the pixies stopped screeching at them, Eliza was ten feet off the ground and way out of their reach.

At the time, there were no professors in the hallway. The only presence close to adult supervision was, well, Peeves, who was not about to ruin the pixies' good fun (it is often said that according to Sod's law, in the scheme of the universe, chaos never decreases...quite to the contrary, it is only known to increase, and as such one's troubles are never truly over.)

The crowd of students cheering and laughing and standing in place to watch the pixies was rather irritating to Leta, as was the hysteria generated by Eliza's cronies. A first-year next to Leta froze and then screamed, batting her arms violently as if attempting to fight off a ghost. Leta swerved around and saw the Pixie tugging on the poor girl's ear. Immediately, she drew out her wand and aimed it. "Immobulus," she muttered, carefully aiming so as not to hit the student on accident.

Behind her, Peeves cackled loudly and cried out "Oh no you don't!" Leta had only two seconds to think before she felt her arm being pushed roughly from the side. Peeves' laughter grew louder in her ear as her spell missed the pixie and hit the first-year instead, freezing them in place. "Drat!" Leta muttered, ignoring Peeves' maniacal cackling and running over to help the student. "Shoo, shoo!" She hissed at the pixie, swinging her ratty schoolbag at it threateningly. It bared its teeth at her and hissed, then flew away to join the flock airlifting Eliza towards an undeterminable location somewhere above everyone (best guess: paradise, or perhaps the Astronomy Tower).

"Mobilis!" Leta hissed, and the first-year collapsed forwards, breathing heavily. She held out her hand to help them stand up, but instead, they glared at her and scurried away. There goes another ounce of my shoddy reputation, she sighed.

By now, Eliza Howell was practically at the chandelier, and screaming for fear that she might be decapitated (or worse...crushed to pieces) by it. The pixies who sat on its crystals and swung madly from side to side were not helping either, as they grinned at her with round, black glinting eyes and mouths full of small, sharp pointy little teeth.

"Somebody, do something!" Lilly shouted loudly, while Margrethe glowered sullenly at the pixies. Leta decided to take pity on her, if only because she was already late thanks to this incident, and had nothing to lose. She aimed her wand at Eliza's shoe and attempted a summoning charm.

Eliza, who was almost out the window (whose complex latch mechanism the pixies were struggling to figure out), let out an even higher-pitched scream than the pixies' chattering as her shoe flew off and landed on the ground near Leta. Peeves cackled with glee and swooped down to seize the shoe, then began to taunt a screaming Eliza with it.

Immediately, Margrethe began to glare at Leta, as if she had committed some heinous transgression to Eliza's wellbeing, but Leta simply brushed it off. This time, she thought a bit more wisely, especially considering the fact that clothes can fly off a person without bringing the person themselves to the ground. Concentrating hard, she pointed her wand at Eliza's gaudy knapsack instead.

As she did so, she heard someone else's voice shout "Accio!" behind her.

Leta spun around, thinking it might be Peeves trying to foil her plans again. But no, it was another scrawny boy with curly brown hair and freckles, probably another first-year like her. The pixies he aimed his wand at jeered and giggled, dodging out of the way, but he made another effort and yelled "Accio! Accio daemonium Cornwallis!"

This time, the pixie who was making faces at him let out a squeal, and as if yanked by an invisible string, went flying towards the scrawny boy quite against its own will. The boy, who had already dumped out all his books and scrolls onto the floor next to him, immediately held out his empty schoolbag and caught the pixie inside of it. Before the pixie could attempt to make an escape, he closed it. The bag began to move and jerk as if the pixie did not like being in the bag, but after some time it gave up and stopped moving. Leta gazed at him, somewhat impressed, then was reminded of her original objective when Eliza, who did not like not being the center of attention for more than a few minutes, let out another scream.

Immediately, Leta pointed her wand at Eliza's knapsack and called out loudly and clearly "Accio knapsack!"

Eliza let out a loud oof! as if she had been punched in the stomach, and began to zoom backwards, pulled by the straps of her heavy knapsack, towards the floor where Leta was. Leta immediately shoved the students immediately next to her and ran out of the way. Margrethe and Lilly, on the other hand, screeched loudly and ran directly towards Eliza so as to catch her, however, they miscalculated her trajectory and ended up being part of a massive collision.

The result was rather amusing. Lilly immediately began to cry like a stuck pig, and Margrethe sat up frowning, sporting a rather red bump on her forehead from being hit by the full weight of Eliza's knapsack. Eliza Howell immediately sat up and began to holler at Leta angrily for trying to injure her, but by then Leta had already wormed her way into a different mob of students headed towards the other end of the hallway. There were some advantages to being quiet and unnoticed, and this moment was certainly one of them.

As she slipped away, however, she stole another glance behind her. There was a small empty space around the first year, who was now squaring off with the entire mob of pixies who had just lost their victim and were looking for another target to ravish away. They had apparently decided he would be a perfect replacement for Eliza. Leta also noticed that they had seized his wand, and were cackling gleefully while taunting him with it.

The circle of students backing away from the first year grew even larger until it was apparent that he was the only one standing up for himself. Nobody else wanted to get in the pixies' way and accidentally end up being spirited off as well.

It should be fine, Leta thought to herself. Another professor, or maybe even Filch will eventually get alerted by the loud noise and resolve the situation.

Besides, Eliza and the other first-year she'd saved had made it clear that her assistance was neither appreciated nor required. She made to turn around and leave when the crowd of students let out another collective gasp.

Immediately, Leta turned her head and was greeted by a vision of the first year pointing his empty hands at the pixies, shouting in a strange language. The pixies stopped for a moment, then tilted their heads, intrigued, but did not stop fluttering towards him. The boy quickly took a few steps back, still shouting confidently, but now backing away from them. The pixies stared at him, now with a resounding fascination, their beady black eyes glittering with hunger. Oh, no. Now they definitely know they want him, Leta thought. Making a split-second decision, she threw down her schoolbag loudly and yelled "HEY YOU BLUE IDIOTS!"

The pixies immediately turned around at the sound of her schoolbag hitting the floor. Leta decided to be even bolder. Grabbing Eliza's orphaned shoe from Peeves, she ignored Eliza's gasps and threw it at the pixies. They dodged it rapidly, hissing angrily. Leta seized a book from another passing student and lobbed it at the pixies carrying the boy's wand. They all let go of it and flew out of the way, howling with fury.

"Go!" Leta yelled at the first year, who immediately understood and did a nearly perfect barrel roll dive, grabbing his wand back before the pixies could. Leta then turned around and ran, hearing the collective fluttering of pixies' ears catching up with her.

Now I'm really in for it, Leta thought to herself as she shoved people aside, desperately trying to run from the pixies. They all screeched and cried loudly, causing several students to cover their ears. That little bugger better not cock up again!

Indeed, he did not, as seconds later pixies began to yelp left and right as they were Summoned and then unceremoniously stuffed into the boy's schoolbag, where they seemed to stay put by some miracle. Leta flailed and dodged to the left as one pixie with its teeth bared came particularly close to grabbing her arm, only to howl as it was Summoned away from her. Leta, who had never been particularly athletic, suddenly remembered that she had not eaten in hours and collapsed, her thin legs giving out underneath her. She panted heavily, only listening to the satisfying sounds of pixies whistling through the air behind her, headed towards an uncertain fate in a little wizard boy's schoolbag.

The crowd that had been glaring and muttering angrily about her stopped, and started staring and whispering to one another instead. Leta inhaled and exhaled slowly, exhausted from having made several risky and non-self-centric decisions that felt quite uncharacteristic and strange to her. Perhaps after this, she would go back to minding her own business and doing nothing.

After all, no good deed goes unpunished, she thought to herself, getting ready to receive no thank yous for her assistance, only reprimands from the Herbology Professor for being late.

"Are you alright?" A boy next to her asked nervously.

Leta turned around, still gasping for breath, and saw it was the same scrawny boy who had just summoned all the pixies into his schoolbag. Smiling tentatively at her, he held out a hand. Leta took it, and let him help her to her feet, although she did not lean on him much as he did not look terribly strong. "You dropped this," he added, holding out her own schoolbag (which she had forgotten about entirely) to her. Leta stared at him, wordlessly. "Thank you for doing that, by the way," he said breathlessly. "If you hadn't dropped it, I wouldn't have escaped them."

"Yeah, well..." Leta stared at his own schoolbag, which was hanging innocently from his shoulders. "Why aren't they struggling to be let out anymore?" She frowned. "Do you have some kind of bottomless bag?"

"Oh, no I don't! It would be terribly practical though, if I did. No, I happen to have some dried borage in my bag," the first-year said sheepishly. "It's not enough to make a person sleep, but it's definitely enough for something like a pixie. That's why they aren't moving anymore...wanna see? They're all sleeping," he made to unlatch the schoolbag to show her.

"No! No, it's okay, I believe you," Leta said firmly, putting her hand onto his to stop him. "You don't have to show me."

"Are you sure? They're entirely harmless now," the boy spoke, with strong conviction, however it was not enough to persuade Leta that she wanted to risk it all. "Cornish pixies are quite fascinating creatures, yet nobody even understands what they are saying. I would love to be able to communicate with them. That's why I'm studying Welsh. They're from Cornwall, so it stands to reason that they probably would've heard humans speaking it. Or Celtic."

Leta blinked. "Wait, you mean...when you were speaking that strange language to them...that was Welsh?"

The boy blushed. "Yes, I was telling them to stand their ground, but they didn't listen to me."

"I know very well what Welsh sounds like," Leta snorted. "It doesn't sound anything like what you were saying."

The boy blushed even harder. "Well, I'm just a beginner," he said embarrassed, fiddling with his collar. It must have been a habit of his, as his tie had come loose and the collar part was no longer standing straight.

"Let me," Leta said, bothered by the overall frumpyness. She quickly grabbed him by the collar, firmly pushing it to sit upright.

"Er, thank you," he murmured. "What is your name, by the way? I'm Newt."

"It doesn't matter, Leta said briskly, already furling his tie through her fingers. "You don't need to know who I am."

"Why not?" Newt asked, concerned.

"Well, we probably won't ever see each other again," Leta replied.

"But you're a first-year too, aren't you?"

"There are probably hundreds of us," Leta drawled. "The chances of us seeing each other again are fairly slim. Plus, we're not even from the same house," she added, stepping back so he could see her badge. His eyes went downwards to her lapel and immediately did a small double take, seeing the green snake curling itself menacingly on her chest. "You're a Hufflepuff, right?" Leta smirked. "Our kind don't exactly get along."

"But, that doesn't mean we can't be friends," Newt exclaimed. "Don't you want to?"

Leta stepped back and crossed her arms, covering up the snake again. "It doesn't matter what I want," she replied, "Everyone ends up disliking me sooner or later."

"LETA! WHERE IS MY SHOE? GIVE IT BACK!" Eliza screeched.

Leta grimaced. "See? You'll hate me just like her. Everyone does."

"I don't understand," Newt frowned. Then his face brightened. "Your name's Leta, is it? Leta? Thank you for saving me, Leta."

Eliza's pink hair and red, red face were coming into view. "Sorry, I have to scram." Leta immediately turned around and began to walk away briskly. However, she remembered her manners and stopped for a moment.

"Thank you for saving me too," she said quickly. "I think that makes us even, so you needn't worry about thanking me."

With that, she slithered off again, leaving the scrawny first-year boy to stare sadly at the place where she had been standing, not unlike a lost little dog.

In a moment, the memories came flooding back into her mind, overwhelming her already shocked brain that was still struggling to process the genuine, in-the-flesh presence of Newt Scamander standing before her.

I've tried how many years to contact him? Countless and countless owls. Spells, charms, even some curses. I even sent a hippogriff after him, for crying out loud. What the hell?

Leta's jaw dropped. Instantly, she took a few steps back.

This can't be right, she thought to herself. There's no way he'd be able to bounce back like this.

Something felt deeply, very wrongly off.

"Everything alright?" Newt asked, still as bright and sunny as if she'd never broken his heart.

Leta took a deep breath and brought a shaky hand to her chest, trying to still herself.

"I-I'm fine," she breathed. "H-how are you?" she blurted out dumbly.

"Brilliant, thank you for asking," Newt blinked, then blinked again, even though he had already blinked once. Leta stared at him, remembering vaguely that it was because of something to do with his body. I think it's called...a tic? She thought to herself groggily.

"I..." Leta looked down at her feet, feeling like a nervous schoolgirl. What are you DOING? You are a PROFESSIONAL! Her inner voice howled at her angrily. Stop acting like a scared little hussy and SECURE THE JOB! "Hmrgh, uh," Leta cleared her throat, "So, you're the young man who posted the job. How can I help you?" She asked, immediately putting on her best act.

Newt smiled yet again at her. "Thank you for asking! Have you read the papers I left detailing the exact responsibilities?"

"Er, no," Leta said, taken aback.

THERE WERE PAPERS?

"Well, yes, but if you didn't read them, it's no big deal," Newt said casually.

Damn you, Silverskin! Leta hissed internally. Now she was going to look like an incompetent fool. There goes my fifth X.

Newt laughed. "You needn't worry," he said gently. "I just wrote them to sound more official. It's all bollocks, really. I can explain the job to you if you want."

"Sure," Leta breathed. It's probably just a temporary affair, a day or two at most.

"It's a longterm position," Newt said brightly, "Perhaps even a year, or two..."

Two years?

"I don't have that kind of time!" Leta exclaimed loudly. "I have to, I..."

Newt stared at her curiously. "You have to do what?" He asked, not rudely. "What do you have to do that's more important than a grant-funded objective?"

He has a grant? Leta balked inwardly. For what? "Er, nothing," she said, embarrassed. "It's just, well..." What if I become Head Auror? Then I won't have time for something like this. "Nothing," she shrugged it off. "I'm at your service. What do you need my help with, sir?"

Newt grinned even wider. "I was wondering when you'd ask!"


	6. Welcome to The Aviary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Leta visit a rich friend.

It had been a while since Leta had seen such luxury if she was to be entirely frank.

It did not become anyone to stare wide-mouthed like a commoner seeing a rich man's home for the first time - however, the change in scenery was more than welcome, after months and months of the same old Ministry offices and living in the same cupboard-sized apartment.

"Where are we?" Leta breathed, still taken aback.

"At a good friend of mine's," Newt replied. "Off we go!" he whistled cheerily.

Newt's friend, whoever they happened to be, lived in a very large Tudor mansion.

Not any Tudor mansion, though. This one had exquisitely detailed, beautiful timbering and a well-manicured, emerald green lawn. Around roamed various doves, nightingales and bluebirds, flying to and fro with confident familiarity. Out on the lawn also stood a white, unique gazebo shaped not unlike a birdcage, with a comfortable swinging bench where a perch might be. In the reflecting pool, various albino peacocks watched and preened themselves, and jaunty yellow narcissus flowers swayed in the wind.

In addition to this beautiful scenery, there was also a small stone pigpen. In it, various hogs snorted, rolled around, and laid contentedly in the warm sun, generally enjoying themselves in the cool mud. In a way, the pigpen sort of ruined the quiet elegance of the mansion, but to Leta it made good enough sense. It was the contrast to the tidy, cream-colored exterior, the plain and sensibly grounded side that even the most frivolous must learn to cultivate. Something about its stalwart plainness was comforting to her.

"Do you like it?" Newt asked excitedly.

Leta's breath left her chest for a moment as she gazed, admiring the beautiful scene in front of her. Then something dawned upon her.

"No ordinary wizard could afford a place like this," she breathed. "This must be..." Her heart dropped.

"This is a Pureblood's home, isn't it?"

That's it, the dark voice in the corner of her mind whispered. He's brought you here, to corner you with all your enemies...You should've known! There's no way he'd be this nice to you after what happened. It's a TRAP!

"Newt!" A voice roared boisterously. "Well, about time! I've half a mind to uninvite you from Clara's wedding!"

Leta froze, then slowly turned to face them, expecting to see one of the Blacks of even Carrows. Instead, she was faced with a strict-faced, tall, ginger-haired man.

"Good to see you too, Jedd," Newt grinned, reaching out a hand.

Leta looked down at his robes, expecting velveteen and false brocade. He appeared to be wearing robes made of some luxurious-looking silk, and a vest sculpted out of some greyish-purple, leathery material she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Don't you try to butter me up Newt," the man retorted. "Jedediah Weasley, at your service," he said tersely. "Or, I suppose, I'm the one requesting your services?"

Leta swallowed.

"Leta," she held out her hand, wincing internally as she prepared herself for disaster.

Nothing happened. Newt did not react, and neither did Jedediah Weasley.

"Unfortunately I'm quite shite with names, so you'll have to excuse me," he replied, giving her hand a quick, firm downwards shake. The handshake of a man used to dealing with all business and no pleasure. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get started on those mad pests. Off we go!"

With that, he turned briskly and began making his way towards the entranceway. Leta found that she had to jog slightly in order to keep up with him, both on account of his fast pace and much taller legs.

"So, Mr. Weasley," Leta cleared her throat, "What seems to be the problem?"

"Well," Jedediah Weasley grunted, "I've found myself in a bit of a pickle, so one might say. My fiancee loves birds, simply adores them. Loves to listen to them chatter all day, so I had an acquaintance sold me what he claimed to be a rare exotic African bird...but it simply won't sing, no matter how much I try to coax it."

"That's odd," Leta replied.

What exactly are we here for, though? She thought, somewhat disgruntled. Surely a smart, rich man like him wouldn't have need of an Auror to handle such a simple case. Unless...well, he does seem like the type to invest in only the best of the best. Plus, Newt is his mate, doing him a favor.

She took a deep breath and tried her best not to let her insecurity to get to her.

Someday, they're going to entrust you with a good job, she promised herself. No more gophering and no more minion work.

As they stood at the entrance, Jedediah coughed lightly and pushed on the handsome glass-paneled mahogany door, muttering some sort of password. He then motioned Newt and Leta to come on in. As Leta walked up the porch steps, she looked down and noticed the welcome mat.

THE AVIARY, it said, in a welcoming font. It also looked slightly homemade, as if someone had crocheted it. Must be his fiancee's handiwork, Leta thought to herself.

Immediately, the first detail she noticed was the polished, unscathed cherry wood flooring. Leta felt bad and immediately looked to see if there was some sort of shoe rack.

"You needn't worry," Jedediah muttered. "I wouldn't have installed fancy flooring if I didn't have charms to protect it. Come, follow me," he turned around a corner, passing a large hand-painted framed portrait of himself. Leta blushed and followed behind as quickly as she could, marveling at the coffered ceilings and fresh plants hanging in beautiful, bold-colored ceramic pots. Some of the flowers were just as vibrantly-colored as the pots, though some looked rather plain and almost dead.

"Night-blooming cereus!" Newt exclaimed excitedly, pointing at a rather plain leafy plant with no buds. "This one only flowers once a year!"

"Indeed," Jedediah stopped briefly, turning around to face them. "You're familiar with it?"

"Only because my mother used to own one," Newt replied, screwing his face tightly and squinting at the pile of leaves as if trying to picture what it might look like in full bloom.

Leta flinched slightly. In the back of her mind, memories were starting to flow back.

Nights and nights of waiting, watching the pale white buds...then suddenly, smelling something faint and citrusy, and running over excitedly.

"Leta! Leta!" Newt howled, jumping with excitement. "Look, it finally opened!"

The guilt and pleasure that rushed through her when he cut off one and put it in her hair, saying it was going to wilt the next day anyway so she might as well wear it and look pretty while they lasted.

"It's...lovely," Leta coughed awkwardly. "What is this one?" she asked, pointing at another plant that looked practically dead and had sprouted only two leaves.

"It's a Welwitschia," Jedediah replied sternly, almost making her jump. "It's supposed to look like that. This one is almost a thousand years old."

"Oh...I see," Leta replied, drawing her hand back immediately. Best not to kill it. I don't even have medical insurance.

"Yes," Jedediah replied. "My fiancee finds it rather funny that I enjoy collecting plants that appear dead. Teases me to no end about it." With that, he turned away and started walking briskly again.

Leta gulped. Have I offended him somehow?

Newt looked over at her, and paused. "He doesn't dislike you," he said, reaching down to readjust his socks slightly. "If he did, he wouldn't have answered you." He also stood back up and walked away, leaving Leta next to the Welwitschia, somewhat lost and confused.

How did he know what I was thinking?

Brushing it off, Leta shook her head and jogged slightly to keep up with the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jedediah Weasley is my own OC! But he is the father of Septimus Weasley, Ron's great-grandfather.


	7. The Room with the Oil Rain Lamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Leta examine Jedediah Weasley's pink bird and make a startling discovery.

Once she caught up with them, she found herself in another bright, cream-colored room which was lit by a single lamp, as it had no windows. Newt and Jedediah were hunched over, observing a rather large birdcage in which a pink-feathered, green-tufted bird could be seen.

"What a looker!" Newt muttered, leaning in to look closer at it. "Look how wonderfully bright his feathers are! He'd be a popular chap, no doubt about it. Bit far from home, aren't you, old friend? And what did you have for breakfast today?"

Leta did not know anything about African birds, and could care less about how pink his feathers were or how desirable as a mate it would be. Instead, she found herself drawn to the lamp sitting in a corner of the room. In her lifetime, she'd seen plenty of enchanted lamps, but they were always enchanted to last forever or turn certain colors. Or, well, if you counted the Hand of Glory that she stole from her father to sell to Borgin and Burke's...to allow the holder to commit deeds by the most discreet candlelight known to man.

But this lamp looked much more magical than anything else she'd ever seen. The lamp itself was shaped like a birdcage, which held a bijou statuette of a woman holding a dove cast in bronze. Around the woman, oil raindrops fell and spun around her, illuminating her beautifully, elevating her into a goddess. Leta squinted at the oil raindrops, trying to guess if they were truly made of oil or if they were merely beads hanging on a thread, still trying to detect a trace of magic. However, what struck Leta as most interesting was the woman's earrings. Instead of simply carving and painting earrings onto the bronze statuette, someone had crafter them out of real purple, white and green jewels and affixed them to the woman's ears.

"So, do you think he'll ever sing again?" Jedediah asked, breaking up the silence.

Leta turned away from the oil rain lamp to focus on the situation at hand. Newt continued to peer at the pink bird thoughtfully, staring at it with open fascination.

"Well," Newt mumbled, "He does have a Silencing Charm on him, so that's probably why he hasn't been singing."

"He does? Well, then remove it! What are you waiting for?" `

"Hm, I would," Newt replied pensively. "But I wouldn't want to put you two in danger."

"What?" Leta found herself asking at the same time as Jedediah.

"I'm afraid you've been played for a sucker, Jedd," Newt sighed, straightening up and taking a step back from the birdcage. "In fact, you should thank your stars this bird can't sing. I'd be perfectly happy to take it off your hands, though. For free. I'll find him a good home, maybe even a mate. It won't be a problem, given what a handsome specimen he is."

Jedediah opened, then closed his mouth.

"Take-take it off my hands? Why, is he defective?"

"Oh no, quite the contrary," Newt replied cheerfully, casually pulling a leather falconer's gauntlet from his coatpocket. "That's the problem."

Jedediah crossed his arms. "I'd love an explanation if you wouldn't mind."

"Oh!" Newt replied, as if it hadn't occurred to him that other people would appreciate clarifications. "You see, this kind of bird does have a song, but you're not supposed to listen to it!"

Leta blinked. "Why not?" she asked, confused. "Does it sound awful?"

"Indeed! It's sort of a high-pitched, endless twitter. Known to drive wizards clinically insane. Why else do you think Uric the Oddball liked to wear dead badgers and jellyfish on his head? Listened to it for a straight month, he did. Funny bugger. Anyways! I'll be taking this one off your hands, if you don't mind. Unless you'd like to keep its feathers to turn into quills. Beyond that, there's not much else you can do with him."

Jedediah narrowed his eyes and peered at the bird he'd invested so many Galleons into. "Are you sure there isn't anything else he's capable of?"

"Oh, well Fwooper eggs are quite valuable!" Newt replied cheerfully, slipping on the falconry glove onto his left hand as if he'd done it a million times. "But this one won't be giving you any eggs, Jedd. Unless you buy him a mate to get along with. Even then, the whole birthing process is extremely risky and shouldn't be attempted by any non-professionals! Many amateur breeders have gone mad as a result."

Leta squinted at Newt as well. "Have you ever helped hatch any?" she asked pointedly.

"Oh, yes. But only once. And I was wearing some very powerful earmufflers," Newt winked. "Well! What's the verdict, Jedd?"

Jedediah stared mournfully at the Fwooper one last time. "Well, if he can't sing, I'm afraid he's not much use to me. My fiancee prefers the singsongy types."

"Alright, in that case I'll take him!" Newt replied excitedly and swung upon the birdcage door, almost making Leta and Jedediah jump. "Miss, if you could please hand me my briefcase and open it?"

Leta sighed and bent over, picking up the brown leather briefcase with both hands. It felt rather heavy, as if Newt has stuffed it up with cinderblocks. She brought it over and placed it right beside him.

"Thank you!" Newt exclaimed gratefully. "Now, please step inside."


End file.
